


Broken Boys

by JayRae Phoenix (TwistedFireInMySoul)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Both Sides, Broken Boys, Dark, Death, Love, M/M, Nostalgia, Obsession, One Shot, Soul taking, old men still loving each other, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-03 20:49:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12154524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedFireInMySoul/pseuds/JayRae%20Phoenix
Summary: Reaper, AKA Gabriel Reyes, remembers when times were easier, and he wasn't a freak shrouded by shadows. Inspired by the song Can't Stand The Rain by The Rescues, the animation done by Najsigt.Now this story is longer, and the second chapter involves Soldier 76, otherwise known as Jack Morrison, who's made a promise that's holding him here. Not inspired by any song, but only by all of your want for another chapter.





	1. Nostalgia - Reaper

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Can't Stand The Rain - An Overwatch Animatic](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/325056) by Najsigt. 



> So, I decided to make this story longer, as you guys seemed to like it! It will be a total of three chapters, and I'm hoping to get someone to be the voice of Reaper. If anyone is interested, just message me!

   Before I died, the last thing I remembered was… Him. We had been arguing, and then there had been an explosion… And I died. Which meant that I shouldn’t be here.

 

   My name is Gabriel Reyes, and I was the head of the Blackwatch. We were a covert operation ran by Overwatch to clean up any messes created during the main battle. I basically sat on the side lines, watching perfect little Boy Scout Jack Morrison be the hero, only to swoop in at the end and sort out the shit he’d left behind. It was a _real_ fun job, trust me.

 

   Looking back at it all, I’m not filled with anger. Instead, I’m filled with some sort of… Well, I suppose it’s called nostalgia. That odd, fuzzy feeling of warmth in the centre of your chest? It’s the only word that seems to fit. In fact, I feel sad that everything has changed… It’s when I look at the present do I get mad. I hate that I’ve been painted as a bad guy. I hate that I’ve been pushed into that light, when what I was doing wasn’t _bad_. If anyone had actually paid attention to what Overwatch did, they would have come to the same conclusion as me. They stopped war, but they didn’t stop famine, or disease. In fact, they were just a pretty picture to slap on top of all the bad in the world, to try and cover it up. They needed to be tore down to show everyone what was really going on.

 

   So tear them down I did. Yes, I caused all of that controversy, and I’m proud of it. No, it wasn’t jealously that drove me to it, but rather the need for a false idol to be removed and the truth to be let out. I wasn’t _jealous_ of Jack… I admired him, and sometimes I wished I was him… But I wasn’t jealous.

 

   Thinking of him makes my stomach hurt. We used to be so close, before I was shoved into the Blackwatch. After that, we hardly talked, because he was so busy. I didn’t hate him for the extra responsibility, but sometimes I wondered what it would be like if the roles had been swapped. He would have been too good, too morally correct, to have done what I did. That’s what made him a better leader, in the end…

 

   I’m not alone in my pursuits anymore, at least. I have two loyal agents, agents who I would die for.

 

…

 

   Again.

 

   It’s strange, to reminisce over my death, and re-birth. I’m not alive anymore, I know that much. I don’t have to eat, I don’t even have to breathe, but it’s become a habit so it happens naturally. I feel pain though, but I’m honestly not sure if it’s because I know that I should feel something, rather than a disorientating numbness. While I’m not bothered about feeling physical pain, I do sometimes wish to turn off the emotional feelings, the more… _Human_ part of me. That’s the part of me that I hate.

 

   I don’t like the nightmares either. Or the dreams. Just the entire sleep thing can go. It’s a shame that was a part of my mortality I can’t shake. They’re the same, and yet… They’re not. In my nightmares, I keep going back to that fateful day, when I fell into the darkness. Those tendrils crept around me, choking me and forcing their way up my nose, in my mouth, drowning me and filling me with cold. It was this cold that I woke to, the cold and a disfigured appearance. I was more ghost than man; I hate Angela for bringing me back. I’d have preferred death to this, real death rather than this walking hell.

 

   My dreams are a fraction better. In them, I get to be with him again… With my perfect little Boy Scout, Jack Morrison. I said we were close, didn’t I? Shame that didn’t last… At least, didn’t last past this rift I’ve created.

 

   I knew that he hadn’t died in the bomb attack either. No, I hadn’t planned that. I didn’t want to hurt anyone… Not then. Now though, things are different. I knew he’d come back, just like I did, but I must admit, he’s looking better than I am. He has that rugged, old veteran aura to him, and I can tell that even with the mask on, he still has those pretty blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires when he laughed… I’m getting ahead of myself.

 

   I wonder if he’s thinking about me, the way I still think about him. I know I shouldn’t, considering he’s technically my enemy now, but it’s hard to stop. He’s like my drug, and thinking that I can never hold him in my arms again… It’s enough to make me want to rip out my blackened heart and crumble it beneath my fingers. I don’t need it anyway.

 

   And to think, I could halt all of this fighting, with just a single word. With one breath I could stop my troops in their tracks, and in another I could be at his side again, apologising between fevered kisses to his lips, cheeks, neck… And yet while that was tempting, oh-so _tempting_ , stopping now would prove fruitless. What if he doesn’t even feel the same anymore? What if he’s moved on, rather than staying in the past like I have? That queasy feeling is back again.

 

   So it’s decided. I will step into the portrait that Overwatch has painted for me. I will be the evil overlord they want me to be, and they’ll have to move heaven and earth to shut down what I have planned. When the world finally realises that it’s tainted, and we’re only trying to solve the problem, I’ll have my little Boy Scout back, by my side where he belongs.

 

…

 

   Don’t worry, Jack. Everything will be like it was soon enough, I promise.


	2. Hero - Soldier 76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now this story is longer (Woo!), and this chapter involves Soldier 76, otherwise known as Jack Morrison, who's made a promise that's holding him here. Not inspired by any song, but only by all of your want for another chapter.

   I am not a hero anymore.

 

   I tell myself this every single morning when I wake up. And then I lay in bed for what feels like forever, but only accounts for a few minutes. Those few minutes I could have spent productively, but instead I just... Lie there, drowning in self-hatred. I know, it's _stupid_ , but when I finally drag myself out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom, I stare at my scarred face and think,

'Who would really miss this? Who would miss me if I ended it all today?' Well, that answer's depressingly easy. I'm a dead man walking; no one would mourn for me if I pull the trigger. In fact, I've already had a funeral, one with beautiful flowers and with many tears shed at my expense. My comrades... No, my _friends_ , mourned for me then. Now though, I'm a shell of who I used to be. The mask is all I am now, and all I ever will be.

 

   I ask myself again.

'Why do I keep fighting, if I could just be a coward, and give up?' That answer is easy too, though I hate to admit it. Dwelling too long on that hurts, hurts so much that it's like being shot all over again. I keep fighting because I made a promise, and no matter what I do, I can't break that promise. Breaking it would be like hurting the only thing that's ever been important to me... The only _person_ that has ever been important to me.

 

   So I get up, and be the soldier everyone expects me to be, a war veteran who really should have stopped fighting a long time ago.

 

   My death was quite unexpected. Well, not completely unexpected, considering the circumstances.. I thought that I'd be assassinated by some idiot with a sniper rifle. Instead, I'm blown up by someone who I thought was a friend. That was a punch to the gut, and shattered everything I thought I knew.

 

  After that, I went silent. Of course, I'd died, so I couldn't exactly jump back up and start fighting again, even though Angela had brought me back. Instead, I just... My heart wasn't in it. I don't know what happened, but it was like... Like I would never feel the sun on my skin again, never truly feel its warmth. My heart beat, but it was hollow, and had nothing to beat for except a miserable existence with an old man. I was given a new life, but what was the point when I had no one to share it with?

 

   In the old days, things were different. I was young, happy, and I had everything that I could've asked for. I guess... Well, I guess life decided that I'd had too much, so took it away and punished me. I mean, I had a loving partner by my side, friends all around me, and a wonderful job that I'd wanted ever since I was little. My parents would have been so proud... I'm just glad that they didn't see what had become at the end, when Overwatch finally fell.

 

   In the end, I started training again, becoming stronger than before. I threw away who I once was, and now I'm someone new, someone better. I still fight for what's right, but I must say... I see why Gabe enjoys death so much. The violence- the rage- it's such a strong anaesthetic... So while I work alongside them, I'm _not_ a hero any more.

 

   I've been hearing the rumours fly around, of a masked vigilante fighting crime. Some are embellished with extra details, some of which I laugh at. I mean, I'm only one man, and yet the gangs are trembling in fear; some have banded together. Do they really think that they have safety in numbers? I survived the Omnic Crisis, for God's sake, so I'm fairly certain that I can take on a few thugs.

 

   ... Heh, I haven't laughed like that in a while. I mean, the team try to make me smile. A few know who I really am. You can't get past Winston, or Tracer for that matter. As soon as I responded to the call, they just... _Knew_. I refused to be the leader again, because I'm tarnished.

'I'm not a hero!' I repeat, to no avail. Still... It's nice to be surrounded by family again.

 

...

 

   Not all of my family.

 

...

 

   Gabriel? If you're listening to this, then I.. I'm sorry for how it ended. We should be together, standing strong like before, instead of standing on separate sides of a ravine.... We're enemies, and I can't hate you. I've tried, God I've _tried_ , but I just can't. So instead, I... I love you, Gabriel.

 

...

 

   Don't leave me for the darkness.


	3. Free Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the two meet on the battlefield, and share a soft encounter. Prepare for tears ahead, as this is the final chapter of this trilogy!

**~Reaper~**

 

   Five.

 

   He was a nice young man, while he was alive. He had blonde hair, and wore glasses. He'd been in an office when I found him, and apparently he'd had a wife and kids. He was a good worker, and had moved on, like most had, after Overwatch was disbanded. He didn't deserve his perfect life.

 

   Four.

 

   A red head, who was a brilliant fighter. She'd made quite a name for herself, in the past, which she'd all but thrown away when the bomb detonated. She'd cut loose all ties and affiliations, drifting away into obscurity like a shadow; that was _my_ party trick.

 

   Three.

 

   Tall, muscular, but a brute. The muscle, unsurprisingly, but not as loyal as you'd think. He often spoke back, though had no sharp tongue to defend himself with. He had no brains to start, so imagine my surprise when his head made a pretty pattern on the wall behind him.

 

   Two.

 

   Clever omnic, trying to hide her in plain sight. No, you weren't my intended target, but your death lured her out, didn't it? That was why Widowmaker dispatched of you, as I had bigger fish to fry. Why would I waste my time on you? You didn't even give me the reward that I seeked for after every kill.

 

   One.

 

...

 

   The one that got away, my little Boy Scout. You're next.

 

**~Soldier 76~**

 

   My feet pounded on the floor as I ran, ran towards the barn-house they were holed up in. The rain was merciless, soaking us to the skin and slicking the ground with sticky mud. It was attracted to everything, and from my knees down my uniform was a dull brown. I envied the Talon inside, only because of the roof above their heads. I wouldn't want to be in their position otherwise.

 

   This was it, the big mission that was supposed to end it all. For the past few months we'd been tracking them, tracking him, and analysing their every move. We should have joined the dots as soon as the second victim was found the same way as the first. Pale, shrivelled up, a haunted look in their glassy eyes... Well, when they had eyes. Number three wasn't a picture before, but after... It gave Tracer nightmares for weeks. It didn't help that she recognised them all... That I recognised them all.

 

   They used to be a part of Overwatch.

 

   I feel my jaw tighten a little behind the mask, and I'm thankful that the rain deafens the sound of my teeth grinding together. Thinking is painful, remembering brings back memories I'd rather forget, so for the time being, I zone out. I say that like it's easy, but practise makes perfect. After a while, it's like flicking a switch.

 

   Shifting the weight of my gun, I peer around the rock that I'd tried to take shelter behind. It was more of a boulder, one that had braved the weather many-a time, and had the battle scars to show it. Moss clung onto the cracks for dear life, and if you were to look close enough, you'd see unnatural nicks in the stone caused by bullets. It made you wonder what else had happened here, but wondering led to thinking, so the wondering stopped.

 

"Reaper, we know you're in there!" I hear someone cry, and I nearly jolt when I realise that it's my own voice that's addressing those inside the building. The mask didn't help, that was for certain, but every time I speak, I'm reminded of how dead my voice sounds. It's so low, so _scratchy_... Smoke does that to you, I suppose.

 

"Come out with your hands up!"

 

**~Reaper~**

 

   On time, as planned. He was good at following the script, that was for sure.

 

   My heart, or what was left of it, let out a feeble throb, like it wanted to leave my chest and join the other half its been missing for so long. I nearly scold it, only to hold my tongue. I knew what it was going through.

 

...

 

   Don't worry, little heart, you'll be whole again soon.

 

   Raising my head a little, with my back pressed against the wall, I pull my two shotguns from my side. They're a part of me, and come from the shadows inside and around me, so when I call for them, they appear. It's second nature by now, to want to see my enemies blood pooled around them, and to feel their soul squirming between my sharp fingertips. The struggle makes it all the much sweeter.

 

"Why should we be the ones surrendering, Soldier?" I sneer his name, and chuckle at how ridiculous it sounded. He could have picked a much better title, and yet decided to stick to that and the number on his leather jacket. Not much creativity, but apparently that didn't matter, so long as he sided with the _'good guys'_. "Are we really in the wrong, compadre? Or, perhaps, you still want to be the hero, when you should have stopped oh-so long ago?"

 

   There is a silence, and I have to stop the apology bubbling up from my chest. Now was not the time to want to kiss and makeup. No, that will be happening much later.

 

"Has the cat caught your tongue, hero?"

 

**~Soldier 76~**

 

   That bastard had no remorse, did he? No guilt, no pity, for what he'd done, for what'd he put us through... For what he'd put _me_ through. Again, I'm thankful for my wonderfully emotionless mask.

 

"Leave peacefully, and that will be taken into consideration when you are sentenced!" I want him to respond, want him to come out with his hands up, just to make this ordeal so much easier. My wishful thinking is cut short by a bang; he fired first. That's our cue.

 

**~Reaper~**

 

   That's our cue.

 

   In an instant, I become nothing but smoke, slipping into the shadows and waiting to make my grand entrance. In this form, I could move wherever I wish, kill whoever I want, but that would be all too easy. Instead, I watch as my men rush out, firing at the agents of Overwatch to try and destroy them. I have so many that casualties mean nothing to me, even if it means that we have no kills of our own. That wasn't what was important.

 

   I hear him before I see him. He'd managed to slip past the defences, just like I knew he would, and his laboured breathing through that disgusting mask of his rattled my core. He'd thumped up the stairs of the old barn, reaching the hay loft and spinning around in a slow circle, trying to locate exactly where I was. I was only going to show myself when I wanted to, and yet that need to be near him once more was starting to take over again.

 

"Jack."

 

**~Soldier 76~**

 

   I swear, my heart nearly stopped. Spinning to swing my gun in the direction of his voice, it's promptly ripped out of my grasp and tossed to the warped floorboards. I bring my arm up, as though to strike him, but we both know that there's no venom behind it, no drive. It's all just for show at this point.

 

   His clawed hands go to my face, and my mask hisses as the pressure drops dramatically. The piece is tossed carelessly to the floor, and in another movement he's pressed against me, holding me flush to his chest just like he used to do, all those years ago. I ache to see his gorgeous eyes, the ones with fire burning deep inside of them, and with fumbling fingers I push his own mask up to see underneath. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

 

   His face is scarred, a mirror to my own, with cuts littering his dark skin and jaw line. He's changed, no longer a softness in his smile, but at least I can still see him, the real Gabriel Reyes, reflected in his amber orbs. The eye contact is broken when our chapped lips smash together.

 

**~Reaper~**

 

   I kiss him like I'm a drowning man, and he's my oxygen supply. We're both hungry, hungry for the passion and hungry for each other; we shouldn't have gone so long without one another. Time apart truly has made the heart grow fonder, and at the same time, we both know that we've been weak without one another. We were never supposed to be separated.

 

   Our heated kiss is broken only so we could pull away to breathe. We're both panting heavily, and I can only imagine that I'm as flushed as he is. His bright white hair is tousled, and I'm reminded by the glow of his eyes of a time when he was younger, when he was that beautiful blonde boy that believed the world was really worth fighting for.

 

   The sound of gun fire distracts me from my prize, and an agitated growl leaves my throat. Could I not just have this and be left in peace? Surely my men were competent enough to handle an annoying ape and his friends? _Apparently_ not.

 

   My hands, which had once been curled gently around Jack's cheek, trailed down to his chest where his heart was. I could feel it beat beneath my fingers, the vibrations travelling up the metal and into my hand, and a soft sigh escapes me. To be alive... It must be heaven. My grip tightens, and he lets out a confused whimper.

 

"Don't be scared Jack. It'll make sense soon, I promise."

 

**~Soldier 76~**

 

   His words should scare me, but they don't. Instead, me being the fool I am, trust him. Why should I not? Apart from him being the enemy, I mean.

 

   His claws dig in, past my shirt and into my flesh. During our brief encounter, he'd managed to undo my jacket, so the leather wasn't in the way. A soft hiss left my lips, and I can feel blood trickle down my torso, and yet he doesn't stop. He continues, whispering praises and promises that I can barely pay attention to.

 

   Confusion and pain must be written all across my face at this point, because I can see guilt in his eyes now. I'm starting to feel cold, which shouldn't be happening, and when I try to question him, my voice has disappeared. I can't even raise my arms now to push him away, as they've turned to lead at my sides. I _should_ be scared.

 

...

 

   But I'm not. I've fulfilled my promise, and now he's releasing me of my burden.

 

**~Reaper~**

 

   Closing the distance between us, I press another soft kiss to his lips, enjoying their warmth before he crumples beneath me. He is now as withered and lifeless as the others, drained of their soul thanks to my disgusting habit. The others were gone, absorbed and then thrown away like they were nothing. Jack, though... He would be treasured.

 

   Bending down, I take his mask and slip it back over his face, to give him a shred of privacy when he was found. Inside, I could feel him flutter against my own heart and soul, twisting this way and that to make a home for himself. It filled me with a warmth that nothing else has in a long time, and I smile.

 

   And now, my list was complete: five, four, three, two... _One._

 

...

 

   You are now relieved of duty, my little Boy Scout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end! It was so much fun to write, and I hope that you all enjoyed it, even if the ending was a little bit sad. I'm sure to write more in the future (fluffy ones!), so don't feel disappointed if you didn't like it. Be sure to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed, and if you want to see anything particular in my next story.


End file.
